Crimson Lullaby
by Graceless Uchiha
Summary: The Volturi kidnaps Bella before she moves to Forks, and they transform her into the all-powerful weapon they've been seeking for centuries. But Bella is unhappy as a merchant of death. Can she ever escape this life she was unwillingly born into?


~notes~

Although I've lived on FF.N for a few years, on various accounts, this is my first foray into the Twilight fandom. It's hopefully a little different than anything you've read in the past, but if not, then you can't blame a girl for trying. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

CRIMSON LULLABY

PROLOGUE

Death was not something that had been at the forefront of my mind in the past. Of course every human being's thoughts ventured toward the prospect on occasion--that was considered normal. However, how many people looked at death as an everyday occurrence, something constantly and casually on your mind?

Could I ever adopt a nonchalant attitude toward something that should be viewed as morbid and perverse?

PART ONE: SHIELD

VISITOR

Renée, the enchanting light in all darkness, was sulking.

In my past experiences, watching Renée in a bout of depression was something that happened every now and again. However, whenever Renée found herself downtrodden from any event-turned-disaster, she would still take notices when I stood in a doorway two feet from her and cleared my throat every minute or so. Those past periods of sadness were nothing compared to the onslaught of self-pity she was currently engrossed in.

If I didn't know better, I would say she was actually _brooding_, but Renée and _brooding_ were not two words that could be used in the same sentence. From her distant expression, she was thinking of her new husband, Phil, who was again away on business. As a minor league baseball player, my new stepfather often found himself traveling to various locations in an attempt to secure a major league position. I couldn't blame him for trying, because baseball _was _his life's passion. Yet a few days after his departure, I could count on finding my mother in a similar state of distress.

I knew this couldn't be healthy for her--this sulking all the time. Renée was supposed to be the optimist to my pessimism, the sunshine to my overcast sky. We were positive and negative, parental roles reversed, yet still complementary mother and daughter. I couldn't allow this to continue.

That was why, for the past week, I had begun to consider a once unheard-of option. In a small, cloud-infested town in Washington state, my biological father took up residence. He served as the chief of police in the tiny town of Forks, ensuring that safety and prosperity resided over the land. Of course, the most action he'd ever see was probably a high-speed car chase a few years back, but Charlie wasn't in it for the excitement. From what I understood, he enjoyed his mildly thrilling vocation. Perhaps it was because he took pleasure in protecting the town from wild bears and motorcycle accidents. Or because the job also paid well and still left him his weekends to go fishing.

Whatever his reasons, my intention was to convince both parents to allow me to live with my father. At least until I graduated high school, so that my mother was free to travel with Phil. She would agree, I was certain, and I would endure whatever scrutiny and torment that Forks had to offer as a middle-of-the-year transfer from Phoenix, Arizona. I was confident that I could overlook the imminent rumors and obvious staring of the townsfolk until it died down. I could make new friends--not that I possessed any real ones in my current high school. Apparently pale, shy, and clumsy did not equal popularity.

Point being, I would manage for Renée's sake.

Again, I attempted to grab my mother's attention, tapping my hand against the table where her distant gaze rested. Startled, she jumped at the intrusion and glared around the room, letting her eyes soften when she caught sight of me.

"Oh, Bella. You scared me."

I offered a soft smile, joining her at the long oak dining table. "Sorry, Mom, but I've been standing there for ten minutes. I tried to be more subtle."

My declaration didn't seem to brighten her mood, but I watched her expression flit from troubled to jovial without a comment. "Did you sleep well, honey? It's a little late for you to be awake on a Saturday."

It _was _unusual for me to have stayed in bed past ten, but I wouldn't point out that she didn't normally clamber out from under her blankets until twelve or so. This morning, I had woken up at my normal time, but I had lain awake contemplating how to get my point across to her. There was a right way and a wrong way to approach this, and I had to be sure I was following procedure. Renée would never believe I wanted to move out if I didn't present a convincing story _and_ the perfect tones and expressions to accompany it. She had to believe this is what I really wanted.

No matter how wrong that might be.

"I was just thinking," I began, gathering my thoughts and composure, "that I haven't seen Dad in a couple years." The reasons behind this, of course, was that Renée had finally figured out that I hated visiting Forks, but I could (hopefully) make her forget all of my previous complaints. "Maybe it's time for a visit."

The hint of suspicion that crossed her features set me on edge, but soon enough she dropped it and grinned in a tentative way. "If you think so, Bells. I always knew you'd end up missing your father some day. You can call him, if you like, and we'll set up your trip for this summer." Her tone was final, as if the discussion were closed.

However, I continued, hedging, "Actually, Mom, I was thinking…I mean, I've never really spent much time with Dad, and it wouldn't be too hard to transfer schools…" There was the bait, and my fish was biting.

Freezing, Renée's eyes appraised my face, deciding if she liked or even understood what she saw there. Crossing my fingers, I hoped that whatever expression I had chosen satisfied her curiosity. Please let this work. Please let this work!

"You want to move? To Forks?" She added this last bit as an afterthought, as if the first part were what really confused her, and the second fact just complicated everything. "Oh, honey." Allowing those words to hang thick in the air for several minutes, her eyes turned thoughtful, seeing past me and to the small Washington town where her ex-husband resided. I could sense her thoughts, trying to picture me in such a small town and failing to see it.

This wasn't going well. There had to be something else I could say. Anything. "You know I like Phil, Mom, but I'm kind of starting to miss my real dad. I mean, I hear all the girls at school talk about their fathers…" I was not beyond outright lies in order to see that this plan worked. In truth, I never gave a second's interest toward what the other girls were saying, but my mother would have if she were in my place. She would relate to my argument.

At once, her expression changed, and I could feel her incredulity wavering and subsiding. With a long, dramatic sigh, her eyes returned to the present, scanning over me as if she expected me to disappear. Eyes welling up with tears, she stood from her chair and threw her arms around my shoulders, embracing me like it could be the last time. "Oh, Bella," she whimpered, and I draped my arms around her in a loose hold, cringing at my ineptness at dealing with emotional situations--something Charlie and I had in common.

"It'll be all right, Mom," I tried, listening as her crying softened. "Look at it this way: this will leave you some time to travel with Phil."

Oh no. That was the wrong thing to say. Her shoulders stiffened, and her eyes met mine, filled to bursting with suspicion once more. I could read the question on her tongue before she knew it herself.

"Bella, you're not moving because of Phil, are you? Tell me the truth, please." She had her business tone, though not quite threatening, it still sent my brain into a state of turmoil as I attempted to lie adeptly.

"Of course not, Mom."

Then, I added, "You're being ridiculous." Perfect. Whenever I told her those words, she would see that she was overreacting. Although she was the parent, she had an uncanny knack for finding the most irresponsible and absurd fads and stunts in existence. She had attempted any number of popular diets, extreme sports activities (like sky-diving and white-water rafting), excessive exercise programs, and many more activities I tried, on a day-to-day basis, to talk her out of. When she and Phil had been planning their wedding, she had almost held the ceremony in Mexico.

Thankfully, her plans had fallen through before the event could take place. I had a hunch that Phil had made her see reason in that particular instance.

At least I knew that my mother would be safe when I moved away. A few years ago I might've worried what consequences leaving her alone would bring, but now that she had a second voice of reason in her life, I wouldn't worry. Phil was just as capable of taking care of Renée as I was.

Still, leaving her in capable hands didn't make it easier on me. I loved my mother, ridiculous fads and all. I would miss her most.

She had taken my words into consideration, a hard, thoughtful expression dominating her face as she considered the idea of allowing her only child to move away at seventeen. Her gaze flickered to mine for half a second, and I remained motionless, my eyes hopeful.

Several elongated minutes later, she heaved a great, labored sigh, propping her head in her hands as if she were exhausted. "All right, Bella. If this is what you really want."

Some inner part of me shriveled at the concept of leaving Phoenix. I gave that piece a mental reprimand and mustered a brave smile for Renée, as if I were excited. Somehow, I managed to ignore my insides cringing at the constant rainfall and colder atmosphere I would be throwing myself into.

"Thanks, Mom. This really means a lot to me." As I observed her weak smile in answer, I could sense that half of me had wanted her to say no. I wanted her to forbid me from leaving…that way I wouldn't have to feel guilty when she missed Phil because of me. I could stay in my school, with my mediocre half excuses for friends, and my mother could endure her losses until I left for college.

However, as I saw the dim hope alighting in her eyes, I knew that I could never do that. This was the only way.

Satisfied with the outcome of this conversation, I returned to my bedroom, intent on calling my father. Charlie would be happy to hear from me, and he would become ecstatic when I informed him of this recent development. Of course, his voice would show no inflection of excitement, but I would be able to hear it in his words.

Perhaps, if I listening closely enough and concentrated, I could convince myself to be enthusiastic as well. Moving to a new school midyear…no, I couldn't think about it that way. Starting over in a new place, erasing my history, becoming someone different. Someone mysterious, someone poised, someone…well, athleticism was out of the question, but maybe enrolling in a new school would uncover some unknown talent of mine.

But I wouldn't hold my breath on that one.

----

My eyes opened in an abrupt flutter, and I searched the surrounding darkness of my bedroom for a few long, silent minutes. My suburban neighborhood slept without interruption, and the house was hushed except for the distant sound of even breathing down the hall. Through the blackness, I could detect nothing out of place, my eyes adjusting to the faint glow of the streetlamp outside my bedroom window. A few of its rays streamed in behind my wispy white curtains, accenting my dresser and a drawer I had left open.

Yet I could sense something off about my surroundings.

As the cloudiness of sleep ebbed away, I searched in a slow, thorough sweep, taking stock of every item that should be present. My closet doors were standing open, folded back to reveal the shallow space and my limited wardrobe inside. A few pairs of shoes were placed in the floor, lined up depending on how often I used them. Beside my closet was my laundry basket, empty after I had finished washing my clothes earlier that day. My eyes then skimmed over the tall, metal desk where I did my homework, and I pulled myself into a sitting position as I scanned between the legs of the desk and the chair in front of it.

Finally, I came back to my dresser, across from my bed behind the door. The one drawer was open, as I had noticed before, where I had left it after putting away some pajamas. I almost discarded the detail once more, except I paused before my eyes left the sight. I thought back over my day--taking my basket to the laundry room and sorting through mine and Renée's things. The menial task replayed itself before my eyes, until I came to the end where I replaced all of our clothing in closets and drawers.

As a habit, I didn't leave drawers open. My dresser was too close to the door in my small bedroom, and I had a nasty tendency of tripping over the threshold and falling against it. If a drawer was open, it would scrape my leg, so I usually kept them closed to protect myself.

Although I couldn't understand why it mattered, I knew I had closed that drawer. Had Renée come looking for something while I was asleep? Curiosity gripping me, I slid out from under my blanket and crossed the room, peering into the open drawer to see what she might have taken.

But what my eyes met didn't ease my confused mind. If anything, it made things worse, because the drawer was empty. My brows pinched together as I glanced around my bedroom in search of the lost pajamas. Why would the drawer be empty? Renée wouldn't take any of my things. She had her own, much more attractive pieces to wear than my old sweats.

With panic threatening to envelop me, I inspected my thoughts, wondering if I had placed anything valuable in that particular drawer. I didn't own any expensive sets of jewelry, no hand-me-downs from grandparents or even reserves of cash. Any money I had was safely in a bank downtown. The only thing that my dresser housed was a limited supply of clothing. Even if I had forgotten to replace the clothes I had washed today, there would still be a few older, rattier things in their place. I examined my room again, this time allowing my eyes to wander into the hallway.

The fog of sleep vanished as my eyes scanned the small space, expecting to see the carpeted floors as I always did. But there was something blocking my view.

My clothes were strewn across the floor, leading into the living room.

Alarm seized my body, and my breathing became labored as I followed the trail of fabric to the corner, and a little beyond there where the rest of the house would be. Unsure of what to do, I willed my body forward, following the trail. At first, I wondered if I should wake up Renée, but the thought of her terrified face came to mind. She would be just as confused as me, and she wouldn't know the first thing to do if someone were in the house.

I wasn't sure how he or she (or _they_, I tried not to think) had gotten past the security system, but it didn't matter. There was no way it could've been my mother, unless she was sleep walking--

That was it! My mother was so upset over Phil that she was sleep walking. That explained the strange behavior, although I couldn't understand why she would drag _my _clothes all over the floor. It seemed more likely she would go for his things, but I wasn't an expert on the subject. Perhaps it was normal for victims to steal their child's clothes.

Following the trail, I allowed my shoulders to relax, sure that this was simply some odd phase my mother was going through. I felt more confident in my decision to move in with Charlie, remembering the conversation that had taken place earlier.

He _had _been ecstatic, and he had conveyed that feeling more than I thought was possible or normal for him. But I couldn't hinder that excitement, if he truly felt that way. Maybe I was doing both of my parents a favor.

As I rounded the corner and headed for the rest of the house, I tried to relax and prepare myself for whatever state I might find my mother. She could be in the kitchen, because that seemed like the generic place for sleep walkers to go, so I ventured in that direction. However, one glance around the room told me otherwise. My suspicions peaked again, though I tried to relax, and I turned back into the hall, intent on the living room this time.

This wasn't a normal case of sleep walking in the first place. I shouldn't have expected to find her in the usual room for such things. If that was the usual room. Inhaling a deep, calming breath, I stepped into the living room, walking past the television and the armchair I liked to read in. I felt dismayed when I didn't see her, though the stream of clothes led to this room. Bemused, I turned to the left, wondering if she had gone into the laundry room, when something interrupted my thoughts.

A voice penetrated the serene quiet, like stabbing ice and crushed velvet. My immediate reaction was that the sound was beautiful and alluring, and I wanted to hear it again. Then my instincts overtook that notion, and I froze where I stood, too shocked to be scared.

"Hello, Bella."

I battled with conflicting impulses, one commanding me to stay and one shrieking at me to run. Right away, I could sense that this intruder was like no one I had encountered before, and that thought kept me rooted to the spot. It took all my strength to turn my head, just enough to see the figure seated in my favorite chair.

No words I could conjure described this person: stunning…immaculate…menacing. A man sat in my beloved chair, his hands folded in his lap and brilliant crimson eyes trained to me as if I were the most lovely creature he had ever laid eyes on. An irrational thought came to mind, that I should tell him he was the one who was dazzling, yet the fear prevented me from speaking.

He took the initiative. "You are one impossible human to hunt down. That shield of yours is nearly impenetrable." His words made no sense, creating the fear that a crazed serial killer had broken into my house. "I was forced to use the _internet_ to find you."

He breathed the word as if he were repulsed by the thought, but continued onward without stopping. "Nevertheless, I'm here now. And I must say, Eleazar wasn't exaggerating when he told me you smelled irresistible." That's when I noticed that his folded hands clasped one of my shirts between them, and he brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Mouth-watering."

At this point, I was convinced that this beautiful man was insane. Why else would he be holding one of my shirts and sniffing it as if he could smell me in it? I had just washed it. Surely it smelled like detergent, or the wood on the inside of my dresser…I wanted to scream, or run, or say something intelligent enough to free me from this unimaginable situation, but nothing came to my poor, frozen brain. I could only watch as his lips twisted into a feral grin.

He continued, "It's a shame I can't have you myself. I'm sure I would remember the flavor of your blood for centuries to come." His bright eyes closed, as if he were picturing the scene. "But it would be too wasteful to lose you. You're going to be wonderful, Bella. The crown jewel of the guard. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

No, it really didn't.

Although my eyes couldn't detect the motion, he stood from the chair and crossed the room in one fluid motion. He stood before me now, inches away, and I gasped at his proximity, snapping my head to face him. One cold, pale hand lifted upward to my face, and I shivered at the feel.

"We'll be unstoppable, Bella," he murmured, almost too low to be audible. I cringed away from his touch, my body shaking with fear. Time became meaningless as we stood face to face, his hand caressing my cheek with an almost affectionate edge. I attempted to swallow against the know in my throat, pleading in my head for this moment to end.

I received my wish, but not in the way I had hoped. In the instant his hand left my face, it closed around my wrist, pulling me with impossible strength to his chest. His chilled lips moved against my ear, whispering in his silky voice, "Death will most become you, love. Sleep well," as his razor-like teeth sank beneath my skin.


End file.
